« Kid, what did I tell you about not giving me extra work? You already forgot or what? »
The nurse glared at Victor from head to toe, arms crossed in annoyance.
« I never asked for your help. »
Victor did what he did best — blatantly ignored the man and went back to his task, using a strip of thick fabric he'd found in the cabinet to wrap around his hand.
The man sighed.
« Damn it… I knew I should've never taken that stupid Hippocratic oath. Let me see your hand. »
He knew Victor hated physical contact — the boy came to see him often, especially when he'd "fallen down the stairs."
But he hadn't expected this. Not just an injury — two missing fingers.
The nurse inhaled sharply and went to grab a bottle of alcohol and some adhesive tape from the cabinet.
« Take off your clothes. »
Victor obeyed, struggling to remove his half-torn sweater and t-shirt.
The sight of his bare body would have shocked anyone. Even the doctor, who had examined him several times before, couldn't help but feel both horrified and deeply saddened.
Almost his entire body was covered in scars — burns, cuts, bruises. His chest and back looked like a map of suffering.
And his thinness was alarming.
He was skin and bone.
That's what those so-called "stairs" had done to him his whole life.
Of course, the worst was still that long wound stretching from one ear to the other, crossing straight through his mouth.
The man was about to tell the boy to grit his teeth — then realized it couldn't possibly hurt more than what he was already feeling.
He took Victor's hand and poured a generous amount of pure alcohol over it, making Victor's eyes water as he tried his best to bear the unbearable pain.
It almost reminded him of that day.
« I don't know what the hell you've done to yourself, kid, but if I were you, I'd stop treating my life like a toy. You shouldn't be pulling this kind of crazy shit at your age. »
Victor couldn't help but laugh mockingly.
« My age? Kid? Take a good look at me, Arnold — and tell me I look like a child. »
Victor said his first name without the slightest hesitation, it was the old world that required people to address those in authority by their last names as a sign of respect.
That tradition had died with it.
Arnold pursed his lips, continuing to clean and bandage the boy's wounds.
He already knew — this boy hadn't been a child for a long time.
He had never seen any innocence in his eyes. He had never seen him laugh — or even cry.
In fact, he had never seen Victor angry or even slightly irritated, except a few days ago when he'd broken the P.E. teacher's arm.
Though he was small and thin, Arnold had never truly seen Victor as a child. Far from it.
Despite his lack of social and emotional understanding, he was more of an adult than most of Arnold's colleagues.
That kind of maturity only came from one thing — pain. Pain so deep and constant that the mind had no choice but to grow up as a defense mechanism.
He sighed sadly.
« Just… be more careful. Don't give me extra work, alright? By the way, now that your babysitter's gone, how's your arm doing? »
Arnold wasn't stupid. He'd noticed the strange dynamic between Victor and Lucie — it wasn't just "professional".
Maybe, with a bit of luck, this morose, detached kid could finally have a friend.
It would probably help him a lot.
Maybe if Cole had one…
« It's useless. »
Victor said it as if he were talking about the weather — his voice flat as always.
« Yeah, that's what I was afraid of… You'd need at least a few surgeons and some top-grade equipment to fix that mess, and even then, I'm not sure it'd work. But shouldn't you be a little more worried? We're talking about one of your limbs here. »
Victor stared at him for a second, then closed his eyes, growing heavier from fatigue and painkillers.
« It's nothing more than a tool. If it stops working, I'll get a new one. You don't mourn a broken drill or screwdriver, do you? »
Despite himself, the nurse let out a nervous chuckle.
« You're completely insane, kid, you know that? »
Victor struggled to get dressed again, trying to slip his left arm into his sweater sleeve.
« Yeah. Even if I'm not a genius, I still have enough clarity of mind to diagnose my own behavior. »
He paused on his way to the door.
Then, with a flick of his hand, his cane flew from the corner of the room straight into his grip — to Arnold's utter shock, his eyes widening in disbelief.
« Thanks for the treatment. »
The boy left as abruptly as he'd entered, leaving the nurse alone in the room he'd come to see as his home over the years — ever since he had no one waiting for him anywhere else anymore.
« That damn kid keeps throwing out excuses and thank-yous without even understanding what they mean… »
He let out a long sigh before pulling out one of his last remaining cigarettes.
He really needed it.
*
Victor made his way toward the meeting room, still limping despite the painkillers slowly numbing his body and senses.
He hated that feeling — losing control — but he didn't have much choice. The pain was truly unbearable.
He stepped through the open door. The principal, Michael, and a few others were whispering, stopping immediately when Victor entered.
Without hurry, he sat on one of the tables, legs dangling loosely.
The silence in the room was heavy. They all looked at him differently — some cautious, some indifferent, some with contempt.
But it was nothing Victor wasn't already used to.
Still, he was almost surprised not to see disgust in their eyes. Probably, seeing death up close had made them realize just how useless and fleeting beauty was.
He was overestimating them, though — they had simply gotten used to his appearance. Nothing more.
Until finally, Michael couldn't take it anymore and spoke up — far too loudly for Victor's taste.
« So, bastard? Your little trip didn't go as planned? Got yourself hurt? »
Pathetic.
Victor wondered if he was stupid or if he just had balls of steel to talk to him like that. Then he remembered — Michael was one of the few who hadn't seen him fight.
And while Victor didn't care about personal insults, this kind of behavior could jeopardize their escape.
That was unacceptable.
He sighed deeply.
« Why? »
The brown-haired boy blinked, confused.
« Why what? »
Victor rose slowly, walking toward him.
« I've always wondered. »
His cane tapped the floor.
Tak
« Do you enjoy it? »
The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.
Tak
« Does it make you feel powerful? Superior? Or maybe… better? »
Michael had begun to back away despite himself, his back hitting the wall.
Tak
« Or maybe it makes you hard? »
No one spoke. Only Victor.
They didn't dare — most humans still had a somewhat decent IQ.
Tak
Victor stopped a meter away from him, staring straight into his eyes.
« Answer me. How does it feel to belittle me? »
Victor's black, lifeless eyes locked on Michael. He didn't look away — not even to blink.
Michael didn't answer, but anger flared across his face.
He was furious — not just because of Victor's words, but because of his own reaction. His body had moved on its own, recoiling as the other advanced — like an instinctive retreat from a predator.
But Michael hadn't quite understood the truth. His body hadn't been backing away from a beast.
It was retreating from a monster.
Fueled by rage, he swung at Victor, aiming for his already damaged face.
Unfortunately for him, Victor saw it coming long before the blow was thrown.
He didn't block — just stepped aside with a speed Michael couldn't even register.
Unable to stop his momentum, Michael smashed face-first into a table, his nose cracking with a dull snap.
« Twice now you've tried to attack me. »
« Victor, let him— »
« I didn't ask for your input. »
Victor didn't even glance toward the voice. He knew perfectly well it belonged to the principal.
He stepped closer to the boy on the floor.
« Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. »
His cane shifted — morphing into a short, sharp, black blade.
From Michael's point of view, it looked less like a sword and more like the Reaper's scythe.
« I'll make sure there will be not third. »
Hurried footsteps echoed in the hallway. Arnold, out of breath, arrived seconds later, witnessing the whole scene.
« Goddammit, Victor! I just told you not to give me more work! You're not a beast for fuck sakes ! »
Victor let out a small, mocking chuckle.
« Don't worry. I never planned to. »
The nurse — and everyone else — sighed in relief.
But a moment later, something clicked in Arnold's mind.
Something deeply worrying.
« What do you mean by that?! »
Victor didn't answer. His black eyes stayed fixed on the bleeding boy on the floor, his thumb gently brushing the handle of the blade.
« Answer me, Victor! »
He never did.
Arnold only saw him lowering his blade toward the boy lying at his feet.